


Recovery

by kristsune



Series: Flowers and Tattoos [29]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Poisoning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Recovery, They love each other so much, reference to past character death, the start anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 13:42:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/pseuds/kristsune
Summary: Stick ends up in the hospital, and decides to make a change. If not for himself, then for Poke.





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> In my research, I did find they don't pump stomachs anymore for alcohol poisoning, but the image is just too strong for me to not write it. Just not medically accurate anymore. (Really I had watched too much ER when I was younger lol)

Stick always had so much anger in him since his mother died. Anger at her leaving him, anger at the world, anger at the injustice of it all. And where he would show that anger to the world, with his look, and his attitude, he never pointed his anger at Poke, or anyone that he cared about, for that matter. He preferred to drown his anger out with alcohol instead. It wasn’t all the time, and he didn’t get out of control too often, but sometimes, when the noise in his own head got to be too much, he went overboard.

Which was why Poke was currently sitting in a chair next to a bed in the hospital. Stick had needed his stomach pumped due to alcohol poisoning. Poke knew the signs when he saw them, and had brought him to the hospital his mom was a nurse at. He had done so on purpose knowing all the nurses would allow him to stay by Stick’s side every step of the way. 

Poke was just so  _ worried _ for Stick. There really wasn’t much he could do for him besides sit there and keep his unconscious self company. But it wasn’t just this that Poke was helpless in, there wasn’t much he could do to help him in general. Stick needed to figure things out for himself, he was too damn stubborn for anything else. 

So he did the only thing he could think of: wait at Stick’s bedside for him to wake up.

\-------

Stick awoke slowly, feeling like he had been run over by a cement truck, then encased in said cement. Everything hurt, the tips of his hair down to his toes. He felt like he was on the verge of throwing up, but his stomach was completely empty, and his throat hurt in the way like he already had, multiple times. 

He groaned as he tried to move, but found one hand was restrained by an IV and the other was being held. He followed the hand to find it attached to Poke, who looked at him with such relief, that Stick felt like he was going to choke. What had he done this time? How bad did he fuck up?

Stick tried to speak, but it just came out as a croak. Poke grabbed a cup of water with a straw and held it for Stick to drink, all without letting go of his hand. He must have done something really fucking stupid if Poke was this worried.

“Hey.” Poke gently rubbed his thumb along Stick’s knuckles.

“Hey.” Stick finally managed to reply without sounding too much like a dying frog.

Stick paused to really take in Poke’s appearance, and did not like what he saw. Poke looked an absolute wreck. His usually perfectly kept hair was greasy and messy, he had bags under his eyes, with an all around air of completely exhausted. But the thing that really threw Stick off was the slight stubble along Poke’s cheeks and chin. Poke  _ never _ let his beard grew, he hated it with every fiber of his being. To see even the smallest shadow on his face, was the most telling of all.

Stick’s throat started to close, and his face felt hot, but it had nothing to do with why he was in the hospital. He couldn’t do anything stop the tears that began to fall. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you hurt?” Poke’s instant concern just made Stick cry harder. Stick didn’t deserve him, not after this. Not after all he has done to him. 

Stick just shook his head as Poke tried to ask him more questions.

“I-I’m sorry.” It was garbled and barely understandable, but Poke obviously understood, because he gently got onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Stick, allowing him to cry into his chest.

It took quite some time for Stick to cry himself out, great wracking sobs, devolving into a constant flow of tears. Poke was so steady through it all, just like he always was. Alternating between running his hand through Stick’s hair, and rubbing his back, just allowing him to cry. 

After Stick finished, feeling even more wrung out and exhausted as he wiped his face and apologized again. 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, love.”

Stick leaned back enough to be able to look Poke in the eye, “I do. I need to apologize for how I’ve acted. I’ve been so  _ selfish _ , never thinking of how this all affected you. So I’m sorry Po’ika. I’m sorry for treating you like this, I never meant to hurt you.”

Poke just looked at him for what felt like an eternity, eyes watering. Stick was afraid that this might be it. Poke is going to kick him out of his life. He had finally taken things just too far.

“Oh Bev’ika.” Poke wrapped him in a soft hug, still careful of where he was hooked up to monitors and IVs. “I know you never meant to hurt me. You never meant to hurt anyone, including yourself. You are absolutely forgiven. I love you, I just want to help you be okay.”

Stick took a shaky breath, no more tears left in him, and hugged Poke back with his one free arm. “I’m going to try harder. I want to be better, for you.”

During the next set of rounds, if the nurses noticed the two of them sleeping in the bed together; they checked to make sure everything was still in place, but let the two continue sleep, glad they were finally able to do so together.


End file.
